The fog rolled in on the fourth night.
Not the normal kind. Not mist. This one clung low, heavy, swallowing sound and distance alike. Owen noticed first, how footsteps vanished too quickly, how Brunn's silhouette blurred even when he was only a few steps away.
"I hate this," Brunn muttered. "Can't see, can't smell, can't hear properly. Feels like being blind with extra steps."
Lysa didn't answer right away. She was tense now, mana threading through her fingers in thin, restless strands.
"This fog is artificial," she finally said. "It's been created."
Owen's jaw tightened. "By what?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. But whatever it is… it's patient."
They advanced slowly, tighter than ever. Owen walked point, senses stretched thin, chest tight with that familiar pressure. He couldn't explain how he knew where danger sat but he always did. A wrongness in the air. A pull behind the ribs.
They passed through a narrow ravine, stone walls rising on both sides.
That's where it happened.
Not an ambush.
A collapse.
The ground beneath Brunn gave way without warning. Owen lunged, grabbing his wrist just in time, muscles screaming as Brunn's full weight dragged him forward.
"DON'T DROP ME," Brunn shouted, half-laughing, half-panicked.
"I WON'T," Owen growled, teeth clenched.
Lysa poured mana into a seal and a large vine grew out of the ground and wrapping around Owen anchoring them just long enough for Brunn to scramble back up.
They lay there for a moment, breathing hard.
Then Brunn laughed shakily. "Okay. Okay. That was almost bad."
Those words stuck with Owen.
They made camp earlier than planned.
Brunn cleaned his axe in silence. Lysa checked wards twice. Owen sat apart, staring at his hands.
They were shaking.
He didn't notice until Lysa sat beside him and gently closed his fingers.
"You're allowed to be scared," she said quietly.
"I'm not," he replied.
She looked at him. "Owen."
He swallowed. "…If I let myself be scared, everyone will die."
She sighed, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. "That's not true. We're here with as a team, you're not alone."
"That's the problem."
They sat like that for a while.
The fire burned low.
Later that night, Brunn broke the silence.
"Hey," he said, voice unusually soft. "If we make it out of this, I'm opening a bar."
Lysa smiled faintly. "You don't even drink responsibly."
"Exactly," he said proudly. "It'll be a terrible bar. People will love it."
Owen glanced up. "What would you call it?"
Brunn grinned. "The Last Stand."
Lysa snorted. "That's ominous."
"Marketing," Brunn replied.
A small smile tugged at Owen's lips as he stared down at the ground.
During the night, Owen dreamed.
Black.
Endless, crushing black, like sinking underwater with no surface. He tried to breathe and couldn't. His chest burned. His limbs felt heavy.
A sound echoed.
Not a voice.
A hum.
Low. Familiar.
He woke up choking, hand clawing at his chest.
The pendant was burning cold.
For the first time ever, he wanted to tear it off.
Morning brought blood.
Not theirs.
They found the remains of a massive beast torn apart—not cleanly, not by skill, but by overwhelming force. Claw marks overlapped claw marks, as if something had attacked it in a frenzy.
Lysa's face drained of color.
"This wasn't prey," she whispered. "This was competition."
Brunn tightened his grip. "So… we're not the hunters."
"No," she said. "We're in the way."
Owen felt it then, the pressure.
They should've turned back.
That thought hit Owen out of nowhere as they moved deeper into the fog-choked valley, the ground soft underfoot, too soft like it had been churned and trampled over and over again.
He didn't say it.
None of them did.
Because once you say it, it becomes real. And once it's real, you start wondering when you should've listened.
Because the ambush didn't come from the front.
It came from below.
The ground burst open beneath Owen's feet, jagged stone and blackened roots tearing upward like claws. He twisted mid-fall, barely managing to roll as something massive erupted where he'd been standing.
A shrill, piercing scream split the air.
Lysa cried out.
"Owen-!"
He was already moving.
A creature dragged itself fully into view long, segmented, its body lined with crystalline growths that pulsed faintly with mana. Its head split open vertically, revealing rows of jagged teeth that clicked together like grinding stone.
Brunn didn't hesitate.
He charged.
"HEY UGLY.... OVER HERE!"
His hammer slammed into the creature's side with a thunderous crack. The beast recoiled, shrieking, thrashing wildly.
Lysa raised her blade, mana flaring bright—too bright.
"Owen, draw it left! I'll pin it!"
He nodded and sprinted, boots skidding on loose dirt, Seishi flashing as he slashed at the creature's exposed joints. It reacted instantly-too fast- its tail whipping around and smashing straight into Brunn.
The impact sounded wrong.
Brunn flew.
Not knocked back.
Launched.
He hit the rock wall hard enough to crater it, blood spraying, his body crumpling to the ground with a sound Owen would never forget.
"BRUNN!"
Lysa screamed his name as Owen ran, heart pounding violently in his chest.
Brunn wasn't moving.
The world narrowed.
Owen slid to his knees beside him, hands shaking as he turned him over.
The damage was… bad.
Too bad.
Brunn's right arm was gone. Not severed cleanly, ripped. His chest was torn open diagonally, flesh mangled, bone visible beneath blood-soaked armor.
Like something had taken a bite out of him.
Brunn coughed.
Blood bubbled at his lips.
"Hey…" he rasped weakly, trying and failing to grin. "Guess… guess I won't be opening that bar. So please. survive and open it for me."
Owen felt something in his chest tear as tears uncontrollably rolled down his cheek.
"No," he said hoarsely. "No, you're not-don't-don't talk like that."
Lysa was already there, hands glowing, mana pouring into Brunn in desperate waves. Her breathing was ragged, uncontrolled.
"Stay with me," she begged. "Stay with me, Brunn please.."
Brunn's good hand twitched weakly, fingers brushing her sleeve.
"Heh… you always… were bad at listening, Lysa…"
She choked, tears streaming freely now. "Shut up. Shut up. You're not allowed to joke right now."
The ground shook.
Owen looked up.
The creature was still there.
Watching.
Something inside Owen snapped.
Not explosively.
It was like a string pulled too tight, finally giving way.
He stood slowly, blade slipping from his bloodied fingers and embedding itself into the dirt with a dull thud.
Rain began to fall.
Soft at first. Then heavier.
Owen didn't notice.
He knelt there, head bowed, shoulders shaking.
Brunn's laughter echoed faintly in his memory. Lysa's voice. Their stupid arguments. Their warmth.
Why am I doing this?
What do I have to lose?
His chest hurt.
His heart ached.
"I…" Owen whispered, voice breaking, "I can't… I can't save you."
The rain mixed with tears on his face, washing them away as fast as they fell.
Behind him, Lysa screamed.
A barrier shattered.
The creature lunged.
Lysa moved.
Not because she was brave.
Not because she was ready.
Because she couldn't watch him die too.
She turned, pushing all her remaining mana outward in a blinding surge, slamming into the beast with everything she had.
"Owen—RUN!"
The backlash was immediate.
Violent.
Her body was thrown backward, slamming into the ground hard enough to crack stone. She didn't scream.
She just lay there, unmoving.
"LYSA!"
Owen's scream ripped itself raw from his throat.
He scrambled to her side, hands shaking as he lifted her head.
Her eyes fluttered open weakly.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"…Hey," she whispered faintly.
"No," Owen sobbed. "No, no, no-don't-please..."
She smiled.
Soft.
Peaceful.
Like she'd already accepted it.
"I told you," she murmured. "When I'm with you… things get better."
His hands trembled as he held her closer.
"I had fun," she continued quietly. "More than I've had in a long time."
"Stop," he begged. "Please stop talking."
She shook her head weakly.
"Live," she whispered. "Don't… don't join us too soon."
Her hand slipped from his grasp.
Her eyes went still.
The rain fell harder.
Owen let out a sound that wasn't human